


Hold Me Close

by FallinFor30Mins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Boys In Love, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everything Hurts, Forbidden Love, Heavy Angst, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 22:53:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21238892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallinFor30Mins/pseuds/FallinFor30Mins
Summary: I'm really sorry for my year-long HIATUS. I promised to update more, but I kind of lied.My deskmate who sits next to me (and is one of my followers) requested me to write this fic of Dean/Sam with extreme angst for her.So here we are! Enjoy~I apologise if my writing is very bad. I haven't written in ages.





	Hold Me Close

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hemwin_stylinson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hemwin_stylinson/gifts).

> Request: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester with extreme angst and comfort. Abuse by John Winchester. Dean is the bottom.

“… He might not be able to make it.” These were the final words she uttered as she evaluated Dean Winchester’s condition.

These were also the final words needed to push John, Dean’s father, over the edge.

Shifting uncomfortably away from John, Dean could hear his teeth gnashing against one another, fists constantly clenching and unclenching, and the pregnant silence that dominated the room.

It was worse than any before.

The car ride back home from Kansas Junior College was filled with a deafening silence.

A step.

Another

And yet one more.

Dean stood before John, contemplating his very existence.

This situation was too familiar. He remembered what happened the last time.

_ Screams _ and  _ shouts _ and  _ slamming _ and  _ thudding _ and-

_ Bam _

The door slammed shut. No more escape.

A heavy leather-clad foot landed on his back, heavy fists pounding against his tiny frame.

He curled up into a ball, seeking the most protection out of nothing.

“You’re useless! Trash! Worthless!” John’s anger hit the roof, blowing away his surroundings.

Knives, chairs, bags, everything lay strewn in a mess around him.

Big hands grabbed the closest thing nearby, a beer bottle made of glass, smashing it towards Dean’s head.

“You were the cause of all this! You caused her-“

_ Click _

The sound echoed throughout the room.

A pause.

The hand stopped mid-swing for a brief moment. Then it descended like hell.

Hell hath no fury like a-

“STOP!” Sam yelled, still standing in the doorway. He stretched out a buff arm, catching John’s hand, halting the descending projectile. Sam knew he should have arrived home earlier. He had that feeling today, that something bad was going to happen to Dean.

“Tch! Should’ve left you for the dead!” John spat at Dean, wrenching his arm from Sam’s grip. He plodded over to the couch, plopped down, and turned on his favourite show.

Dean was a trembling mess, his entire body beaten black and blue, jarring marks made by a sharp knife across his entire body. He was trembling, seeking comfort yet too scared. Too scared to be rejected by the one he dearly loved.

Years of undergoing this had given a deep trauma to him. It made his self-confidence hit rock bottom, his emotions almost non-existent and instilled a constant sense of paranoia in him.

In short, it wrecked him  _ hard _ .

Sam gently scooped up Dean, hugging him. He padded up the stairs, one at a time. He cleaned dean, bandaged him, and left his tired body of his bed to sleep in. He needed the rest.

This was not the first time. It wouldn’t be the last either.

No more.

No more again.

He couldn’t bear to see his brother like this.

Never again.

Hands grabbed his throat, strangling him. He struggled, flaying his limbs wildly, a wild mess of desperation and fear.

_ Fear _

It was the only feeling he had left, deep in the endless abyss of shame he had built for himself. A brick upon another, building the fragile and tattered castle, missing the grandeur it displayed previously. It was now a moss-rotten dwelling, hurricanes slashing through it. Never again like the beautiful and elusive castle floating in the air he had once dreamed of.

“You were the cause of all this!” Scarred hands grabbed the rest of his limbs, bundling him into a black bag. “You caused Amy’s death!”

Hell hath no fury like a widower scorned.

Soon after, Dean felt himself being dropped into an endless abyss, layers upon layers of hard rock thrown at him, in this hellhole.

_ No! This- _

Dean furiously and unrelentingly struggled, pushing desperately against the walls of his constraints. Which seemed to shrink with every second. It became smaller and smaller, and Deana could no longer feel the rest of his limbs.

Where was he?

Help me.

Help Me.

_ HELP ME. _

And he felt his last breath pass through him.

He grabbed onto that thread of life, he wasn’t going to give up.

Where was-

“-SAM!” Dean yelled as he sat up on the bed.

Collapsing, he felt pain reverberate through his very being. It was all he knew. Pain and fear and humiliation. They had taken root deep in his heart.

“Sam?” He whispered in a small voice. “Where are you?”

He closed his eyes and drew his arms to his knees. Rocking himself on the bed, he cried.

“Sam? Where are you? Where are you? Where am I?” Hearing no sound, he slowly calmed down, opening his eyes, he closed them again. It was all too similar to his dream. It felt so real. It reminded him that he was just a worthless fool, too naïve, believing in the fairytales of fairies and happy-ever-afters…

When it was all a lie.

A lie. That’s what his life was.

That’s all he was.

Then it happened. He felt the heat of light. Scrambling towards it, he reached his hands out, wanting to feel the precious light. It was the one constant. It would remind him that he was no longer trapped in that bag, that dark abyss that pulled down every fibre of his being. It would remind him that he had someone he could rely on.

Flinging the door open, Dean rushed up as quick as he could towards Sam’s room on the top floor. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, allowing him to momentarily forget the pain that he was suffering from.

Standing in front of the wooden door, he began pounding his fists against the door, screaming. “Sam! Sam! Let me in! Please! I’m scared.”

Yet there was no response. Beyond the door, it was quiet, a deathly still. As if…  _ Sam had ignored him. _

_ No. This couldn’t be. _

Sam had  _ never _ ignored him. Not once. Not when they had lost their mother. Not when he started getting beatings. Not when he needed help.

Dean abruptly stopped.

Maybe Sam had given up on him.

He had given up on himself, so why not Sam?

_ Hopeless _

Dean shrunk down, curling into a ball in front of Sam’s room, softly muttering, “help me… help… I’m worthless, useless, trash. I don’t deserve to be here, not with you. Sam… help me.”

He repeated those degrading words over and over, and the moss rotten dwelling became a field of debris.

Sam opened his eyes, hands quietly sliding under his pillow. To grab the knife he always carried around with him.

Listening closely, he noticed the muffled crying and sobbing in the direction of his door.

Sam’s grip on the knife loosened.

Good. It wasn’t the ugly part man part beast creature he had spotted.

The door shook several times, prompting Sam to quickly stride over to it and look through the peephole.

Noticing a tuff of hair a shade darker than his own, Sam hurriedly flung the door open and encased the bundle within his arms. He closed the door and gently rocked Dean, hugging him to his warm chest.

Dean’s face buried deep within his chest, taking a breath of the familiar scent he loved. He calmed down, wrapping his arms around Sam’s body.

Dean was carefully placed on Sam’s lap as he leaned back against the bed rest, pulling the bundle closer to him.

“Dean, look at me. Come on, it’s not your fault.” Sam gently coaxed Dean, begging Dean to look at him, if not only for a brief moment.

The bundle within his arms quietly contemplated, then he slowly raised his head, looking at the one he loved.

As the two looked each other in the eyes, their bond strengthened. They could feel what the other was feeling, experienced their joys, their sorrow, and in this case, their despair.

It was a dangerous world, and they only had the other. The other to share  _ everything _ with.

Dean leaned in, tear-stained face illuminated in the beautiful moonlight, slowly closing his eyes.

Sam responded in kind, moving his lips forward, kissing Dean’s.

Sam couldn’t get enough of Dean, of the sweet flavour he savoured whenever he kissed him, and he rubbed his lips against Dean’s tongue poking out.

“Possess me,” Dean whispered against his swollen lips, enchanting Sam.

Sam violently French kissed Dean, pressing him down onto the soft mattress. Ever so slowly, he began stripping Dean of his clothes, dragging his hands along his sides.

“You’re mine. Mine.” Sam crooned, pinching Dean’s two stubs on his chest. He began working his way down, kissing and nipping and teasing those beautiful mounds. Licking every inch of his body, savouring every length, worshipping him as he deserved.

He didn’t deserve all this suffering. He deserved better. He deserved the world.

He deserved the best.

He deserved everything.

He didn’t deserve to be thrown around like garbage. Or to be beaten black and blue all over.

“Sammy… is it my fault?” Dean whispered, a tear leaking out.

“No! It’s not your fault! None of this is.” Sam roared, licking the corner of Dean’s eyes. He pressed against Dean, connecting with every fibre of his being. Love flowed through the sacred bond that they shared, the one that made them connect on a deeper level.

Slowly, a finger poked Dean’s asshole. It was covered with a cold liquid that made him shudder

He groaned, pushing against it, opening up and ready.

The finger pushed in, exploring his insides. The most intimate parts of him… they were all his.

“It’s not your fault. It’s all right.” Sam asserted. Another finger.

His fingers scissored Dean’s hole, pushing in and extending wider, preparing him for a monster.

Dean moved on top of Sam, sliding down. Just as Sam had done to him, Dean began kissing and licking every inch of him. Those beautiful muscles, the protruding mounds, and the beautiful low-hung sacs. And the giant monster staring at his face.

He gently cupped Sam’s balls, nose plunged in his pubic hair, breathing in the scent of the man he so dearly loved. The one who had comforted him and been with him. The one who embraced him. The one who cherished him.

Dean licked along the veins of the shaft, slowly, with the tip of his tongue, from bottom to top.

He reached the slit on the cap, gently teasing it. Sam’s groans resounded across the room, like music to Dean’s ears.

“Dean…” Sam urged, gripping the silky locks of hair. Dean groaned, opening his mouth and deep throating the monster. He took him in deep, licking and sucking, body shaking. Sam took the chance to plunge his fingers back into Dean’s ass, glistening in the moonlight.

Both moaned, and panted, sharing the sensual carnage and pleasure together. As one.

Sam gently guided his lover onto his forearms, embracing him. The thick rod entered, filling Dean’s very being up. He squeezed against the monster, drawing out grunts and pants from the one on top.

“Ahhh, fuck, you’re so warm.” Sam thrust against Dean, balls slapping against his ass over and over, turning it a beautiful shade of red.

“Dean, it’s not your fault,” Sam repeated, going faster and faster.

“Mmph! Ahhh…” Dean responded, kissing Sam deeply.

“It’s not your fault.” Sam’s hands roamed all over his body.

He caressed his beloved’s face, kissing roughly down his neck and shoulders, leaving red marks. Territorial marks. Dean belonged to him, and no one would take what was his. He loved Dean. Nothing was going to change that.

“It’s not your fault.” Sam quicked the pace, rapidly slamming their hips together. He flipped around, him at the bottom, Dean on top.

“It’s not your fault.” Dean slackening on top, each thrust of his hips pushing him off the edge. He bounced on Sam’s cock, riding on top.

“It’s not your fault!” Sam thrusted, spraying a white viscous liquid in Dean’s inner walls. A little seeped out of the hole as Dean collapsed onto him, still sweaty.

“Don’t let that asshole get the better of you. You’re not worthless. You’re mine.” Sam whispered, hugging Dean. He pulled the covers over their still-entangled bodies and hugged him.

“It’s not your fault.”

And the debris was washed away by a typhoon, rebuilt anew.

A beautiful castle in the sky.


End file.
